


For Together (We Can Take On the World)

by Ancientgreekfreak



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Gen, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancientgreekfreak/pseuds/Ancientgreekfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Yes, this was a birthday present for someone before I realized they were a backstabbing bitch.) I hope you enjoyed the story!</p></blockquote>





	For Together (We Can Take On the World)

           It started, as most things used to in Merlin’s life, with Arthur. More specifically, Arthur rising from the lake of Avalon, soaking wet and cursing as the weight of his armor threatened to pull him back into the water. Merlin, in a move Arthur would have dubbed “girlish and dramatic,” had lived by the lake for almost fifteen hundred years, waiting wistfully for the day Arthur would return. 

            In a somewhat disheartening twist of fate, Merlin had almost missed Arthur’s return, as he had been in the middle of a shower. It was only due to Arthur’s loud, belligerent spluttering that Merlin had even heard his reemergence, and thrown on the closest pair of clothes that he could find in time to see the blond emerging from the pristine lake water. He looked exactly the same as the day Merlin had set him adrift in the lake (except for the part where he was dripping wet), over a millennia and a half ago. 

            Half elated, and half convinced he was having some kind of stroke-induced vision, Merlin ran into the water and grabbed Arthur’s arm, pulling him out of the water. He resisted the urge to cling to the other man because _he was a strong independent warlock who didn’t need no king_ , a mantra which worked for about thirty seconds before sentiment overcame his inner Beyoncé and he launched himself at a somewhat confused Arthur.

            Wrapping his arms around Merlin tentatively and thrown off by the enthusiastic display of affection, Arthur asked, (well more like demanded), “Merlin, what on earth- didn’t I _die_ , and for goodness’ sake what _are_ you wearing?” The man in question only clung to Arthur more vigorously at the reminder of Arthur’s brash prattishness and all of his clotpole-ish tendencies, then responded into his sovereign’s shoulder, “You were dead for _fifteen hundred_ years, Arthur. The world has changed a great deal since you’ve been gone.” Arthur tried his best to contain his shock, but could not resist a sharp uptake of breath and a slight dropping of his jaw, as Merlin continued to cling to him.

            Resigned to his fate, Arthur patted the back of Merlin’s head as he tried to control his reaction to the revelation of the years since his death, and in asked after his beloved kingdom. Merlin merely shook his head and mumbled, “Long since crumbled to dust.” Since it was clear that Merlin would say no more about it at the moment, the former king merely sighed, and queried, “Well, when did you come back, _Mer_ lin?” Grinning at the sound of the familiar but almost-forgotten inflection of his name, Merlin responded, “I’ve never left!” Arthur pulled his neck backwards so that he could see Merlin’s face, and asked, “What do you mean, never left? Have you been here…all this time?” The warlock’s face settled into a falsely cheerful smile as he responded, “Just waiting on your return, _milord_.”

            The false gaiety did not fool Arthur, who believed he had only seen Merlin a few moments ago, and could tell when his best friend was putting up a front. He could not resist asking, “Are you _immortal_ , or something?” Merlin’s eyes visibly dulled as he responded in the positive. Arthur’s jaw clenched, not due to any fear of his warlock (okay, maybe a little), but mostly due to the horrors he ascertained that Merlin must have endured in the long years since his death. Gripping Merlin tightly, Arthur whispered fiercely, “Well, I’m here now. _And I don’t intend to leave you again._ ”

            (Just how long they continued hugging by the lakeside is left well enough to the imagination.)

            Eventually, the pair did disentangle themselves, and Merlin brought Arthur up to his house. The warlock could see Arthur trying to stop himself from wrinkling his nose at the relatively small dwelling. Although the former king was able to endure harsh conditions (e.i. sleeping in the woods with his manservant), he had still spent the majority of his life within the walls of a castle. Merlin had to stifle a small giggle at the expression on Arthur’s face, only to have to hold back a full-blown guffaw at the look on the blonde’s face when confronted by kitchen appliances and (goodness forbid), _the television_. There was to be a long, bitter battle between King Arthur and “the moving picture devilry” which no-one was bound to win, least of all Merlin, but that was not the impending issue at the moment.

            The problem at hand was that Arthur ran the risk of dying again, of a cold this time, if he remained in his soaking wet chain mail. Explaining that he needed to warm up in a bath, Merlin led Arthur by his arm to the bathroom, where he started the bath, as he assumed that it would be less alarming than a shower. Although Arthur flinched at the water that came spontaneously out of the metal tube on the side of the tub, he allowed Merlin to undress him as he used to, feeling the familiar tingle as the warlock’s fingers brushed his skin.

            Merlin, of course, who hadn’t done this in fifteen hundred years, felt more than a tingle as he pulled Arthur’s pants down his muscular thighs. Clenching his fists to keep himself from doing something he would regret, he tested the water and motioned for Arthur to get in before scurrying away to get something for Arthur to wear once he got out of the water.

            After picking out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt which would probably fit the broader man, Merlin rushed back to the bathroom and scrubbed down Arthur, trying not to think about the golden skin under his fingertips (and failing). Clenching his fists to keep from a more _physical_ display of his reaction to Arthur, Merlin handed the blond a towel as he got out of the tub, and turned to drain the bath. As it turned out, Arthur was apparently incapable of drying himself off without displaying his _whole freaking body_ , so Merlin dug his nails into his palms as he absent-mindedly obtained the hairdryer. Plugging it in, he turned it on and prepared to dry Arthur’s hair, when the man in question shrieked like a banshee and came _this_ close to dropping the towel around his waist. Shaking himself out of his Arthur-induced stupor, Merlin turned off the hairdryer and placed it gingerly on the counter while Arthur continued to stare at it warily. Speaking in gentle, quiet tones, Merlin reassured the ex-king that the hairdryer was not, in fact, going to eat him, and that it would spare him excess cold by doing exactly what its name suggested. This, of course, spurred a whole host of questions about how it worked, and thus, electricity, including (but not limited to), “How does ‘electificity’ work, exactly?” and “Is it a form of magic, _Mer_ lin?” Merlin merely deflected the barrage of questions as best he could before basically wrestling Arthur into a position in which his hair could be successfully dried, Arthur grimacing all the while.

            And thus, Arthur’s introduction to the modern way of life began. He asked questions about almost everything, and constantly disparaged most facets of the modern lifestyle, including television, social media, and the ever-beeping microwave. Merlin’s previously quiet life turned into a clamor of _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur_. What had previously been quiet Sunday mornings filled with cheesy cartoons turned into Arthur sprawled across Merlin, making snide comments about the content of said cartoons. What had previously been fairly routine dinner-making turned into hours of Merlin trying to fend off Arthur’s increasingly creative attempts to steal the food before it was ready. (In Merlin’s defense, he only lost because Arthur was a brilliant strategist, not because he was thoroughly distracted by Arthur’s bright, unguarded laughs. Definitely.) Clothes shopping became a never-ending battle between Arthur, skinny jeans, and the poor, hapless store employee who had the misfortune to be attending the dressing room at the time of Arthur’s visit. Although the female employees initially seemed keen on him when he initially entered the shop, by the time Arthur left, all of the employees found that they had learned new and creative curse words. During every single episode of “Paternity Court,” Arthur launched into lengthy, impassioned lectures about how men of honor claimed their children, brandishing kitchen knives at each of the “contestants.” Merlin despaired.

            None of Arthur’s antics, though, ever compared to the _absolute fit_ he had when Merlin informed him that his precious sword was at the bottom of the Lake of Avalon. He first tried to wade into the water to find it himself, the sight of which nearly sent poor Merlin into spasms. When he had successfully dragged Arthur out of the lake and ordered him to take a bath, he used magic to summon the sword himself. After that, Arthur refused to be parted from the damn thing, leaning it against his chair at meals, sticking it in between the couch cushions during Sunday morning cartoons, and even bringing it to the bathroom with him. One day, Merlin walked into Arthur’s room to wake him up, only to discover that he slept with it in his bed. That was, in Merlin’s opinion, a step much, much too far, and spent the entire morning lecturing Arthur on all the ways Excalibur might accidentally killed him, sending Arthur on a guilt trip so long that he managed to keep it in his closet for the majority of the day.

However, the one thing Arthur _could not and would not_ make his peace with was Merlin’s organic cereals. Arthur claimed they were akin to eating paper, while Merlin asserted that they were both healthy and better for the earth. Merlin had dragged Arthur to the supermarket, like any other Tuesday (Merlin dreaded Tuesdays), and the pair was arguing in typical fashion about the purchasing of said organic cereal. Arthur had once again started on his tirade about “ _eating parchment, Meeerlin_ ,” as Merlin looked on in amusement. However, this time, Arthur had added another facet to the argument- his well-practiced pout. The combination of this and his rage-stained cheeks proved to be too much for Merlin as he dragged Arthur’s lips to his own and kissed the pout right out of them. After a brief moment of shock, Arthur pulled Merlin right back to him, and they made out in the grocery store as the box of cereal fell to the floor, forgotten.

(The next Sunday as they sat watching cartoons, a skit aired about Arthur, Guinevere, and their _epic love_. Merlin visibly stiffened, so Arthur lifted his head up from where it rested on Merlin’s lap, threaded his hand through the dark hair, and whispered, “ _I love you._ ”)

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, this was a birthday present for someone before I realized they were a backstabbing bitch.) I hope you enjoyed the story!


End file.
